My daughter has been through some shit she has no fault in, no input into and no way of avoiding. A few years back, as my divorce was just beginning I started a new tradition with her. Every year we dressed to the nines, and we will go see The Nutcracker at the Ellie Caulkins Opera house in Denver, followed by a really nice dinner at a very nice/fancy restaurant.
Just got home 2 hours ago from this year's extravaganza. We giggled, and made jokes, we talked and talked, and then giggled some more, we got caught up in the magic and wonderment of Christmas, we watched a really good ballet, we giggled again, we ate like Kings/Queens, we giggled again, we went through one hell of a sugar rush, and then crashed out HARD less than 3 minutes after walking in the front door. Watching her with her little mouth agape while being caught up in the whimsy of the ballet, and seeing her hands involuntarily moving in artistic circles like she was directing the orchestra itself was absolute magic to me.
Christmas long ago stopped being about the magic for myself. 9 years ago it started being about MAKING the magic for her, which of course directly translates into it being magic for me. What comes around goes around and all that. Tonight I was blessed again to be able to make some of that magic for her and with her.
I pray to God that when the Alzheimers, or dementia, or whatever else comes to take my mind from me, that the last memory to leave me is the memory of tonight with my little girl.